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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23586664">The First Sign of Friendship</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevent/pseuds/Sevent'>Sevent</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Just Soft Feelings, M/M, Sharing Clothes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:56:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,063</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23586664</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevent/pseuds/Sevent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaskier's clothes get ruined disastrously and Geralt lends him his clothes. Jaskier returns the favor the same day.</p>
<p>
  <i>— written for the 'Geraskier Fun Day' prompt: Clothing Swap</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>73</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>723</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Best Geralt, Geraskier Fun Day</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The First Sign of Friendship</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello everyone, back at it again with fluffy things! (This is almost Gen, really, but there's always soft feelings between these two even if they don't say it, so!)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Witcher’s work is often poorly rewarded, for the effort it takes and for the inconveniences that come with it. Jaskier is well aware of this hard truth, as following one Geralt of Rivia includes suffering half of his inconveniences with him. He’s used to it meaning fewer stays in small town inns, bad food, and long treks through old roads to avoid angry townspeople. But sometimes—sometimes like <em> today </em> —the inconvenience amounts to torment, because while the witcher successfully slays a slimy creature, in a disgusting swamp, at noon when the heat makes everything stink like carcass and ass, <em> Jaskier </em> is the one to be drenched head to toe in mud and gore. His clothes are ruined down to the stitching.</p>
<p>“I hate swamps. I hate them, and I hate every single beast that decides to live in one.”</p>
<p>The creature’s head drags on the dirt, held up by Geralt’s black-bloodied fist. When Jaskier looks up at his face, he catches a grin hidden behind clumpy, matted hair and <em> fumes </em> a little hotter. </p>
<p>“I told you coming along would only put you in a bad mood, bard.”</p>
<p>“If I knew that my new outfit would be bloodied beyond salvation I would have listened! This exquisite doublet cost me a whole month’s worth of busking alone!”</p>
<p>Jaskier huffs, shaking his hands free of a sticky substance, a souvenir from the swamp creature. He can’t even remember its name, and he won’t bother to. Not when he <em> is </em> in a bad mood. The <em> worst </em> mood of all time, as his impeccable memory reports. Had he a weapon to his name, Jaskier would have killed a bug or stabbed a tree out of sheer frustration. Instead he’s chucking his doublet and his undershirt off, like a rabid dog scratching its hide for fleas.</p>
<p>And Geralt dares to chuckle behind him.</p>
<p>“Slow down, bardling. You can buy a new one back in town—”</p>
<p>“Keep talking and I’ll—I’ll rip <em> you </em> a new one, witcher. <em> Ugh, </em> I am <em> not </em> about to let myself be seen by <em> anyone. </em>My reputation will never recover. I’m—hmm. I’ve decided to throw myself to the nearest clean water source. Is there a well around here?”</p>
<p>The mountain stream on their way back to town isn’t a well but it <em> is </em> a godsend, and Jaskier takes immediate advantage of it, grimacing at the squelch of bog water in his boots. Those will have to be thrown out too, before they go to market. For the time being, he lays all his things—his sodden jerkin, doublet, and shirt—out on some sunny rocks as he sits waist-deep in the water to clean his hair and his nails free of muck. Once he’s satisfied, the boots are emptied and washed over and over. It will take hours for everything to dry. </p>
<p>Up on the grass, Geralt fixes his beheaded prize on his horse’s saddle. After it becomes clear that Jaskier won’t stop sulking <em> or </em> washing, even as he starts shivering from the cold, the witcher calls him over to the rocks. </p>
<p>“Here,” he passes a bundle of cloth, pulled from one of Roach’s many saddlebags, into Jaskier’s curious hands. </p>
<p>“What’s this?”</p>
<p>“You don’t have anything else to wear, do you?”</p>
<p>Jaskier frowns. His jaw clenches tight to keep his teeth from chattering. </p>
<p>“Not at the moment, no.”</p>
<p>“Then take it.”</p>
<p>A question hovers at the tip of his tongue, but there’s a softness in Geralt’s eyes, so Jaskier keeps it to himself. He inspects the dark bundle, twisting it around to loosen a clever knot. It turns out to be something he recognizes with a quickening pulse—dark waist-high breeches with a string tie at the front. The legs are wrapped over a muted shirt with an open cut neckline. </p>
<p>It’s the obvious thing to say, but, “This is your spare outfit.”</p>
<p>Geralt simply shrugs. “I’m not in need of it. <em> You’re </em>worse off than me...surprisingly.”</p>
<p>Surprisingly is right. There’s some gunk in Geralt’s tangled hair, which is to be expected after a hunt. But the rest of him is almost suspiciously untouched by the creature’s slime.</p>
<p>That aside, with nothing dry to his name, Jaskier clutches the soft pair of clothes to his chest. A gift he will forever appreciate.</p>
<p>“Thank you.”</p>
<p>Geralt gives one of his wordless hums.</p>
<p>Warmth sparks inside the bard’s chest. His witcher may not be good at expressing it, but Jaskier understands what it means for him to share his things, especially something as personal as his clothes.</p>
<p>He sets about dressing up for their road ahead, face flush with a joyful buzz.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once they’re back in town, Geralt tucks his armor and weapons away in their rented rooms, as they are no longer needed. A visit to the market doesn’t require them anyway, not if he wants to approach a crowd of people and leave it undisturbed, or for him to remain mostly unnoticed. </p>
<p>They’re searching for the tailors holed up in their stalls, and it’s a promising find going by Jaskier’s excited talk. On the third tailor shop, he makes a purchase to replace his lost cause of an outfit. These kinds of shops have cheap and easy work, already halfway sewn to average proportions. Not ideal for long use, much less for a man of fashionable taste, but neither of them will have to wait for days on a simple outfit. Well, simple for the bard. </p>
<p>As they walk the street Geralt glances at Jaskier frequently, each time taken aback by how striking he looks wearing dark colors. In their time together, the witcher has never seen him wear anything darker than purple. The dusky shirt floats on him, the cuffs at the wrists covering his palms when he goes to test the quality of a cut of blue-dyed fabric. Chest hair peeks through the gap at the collarbone.</p>
<p>It’s—distracting.</p>
<p>So distracting, in fact, that Geralt doesn’t notice someone stealing his coin purse right out of his belt.</p>
<p>There’s a shove and a familiar jingle bouncing away, which wakes Geralt up from whatever daydream took him over. “Hey! You piece of—” </p>
<p>The thief is already bouncing off from the market. Geralt goes after him in a sprint. The heavy evening crowd makes the chase difficult. More than once he barrels into a poor girl, spilling basketfuls of fruit, flowers and dyes to the ground. Not as badly as the thief, though, which is how Geralt manages to catch up to him.</p>
<p>His sleeve snags on a splintered pole at the last second, giving the bastard a chance to duck away. Geralt curses at the loud rip that cuts through the air. He keeps up the chase on light feet. </p>
<p>Just before the next turn, he hears a crash ahead and loud, angry swearing. He eases up on the corner to watch a red-faced man cuff the little slippery purse snatcher. Getting his coin back is a simple task through the commotion and the yelling, and with the guards that show up to clear everything and everyone up.</p>
<p>Upon his return, Jaskier immediately pelts him with questions and a narrative tale on the mundane things he missed with his running out. Geralt is once again fixated on the way his shirt never quite stops moving around Jaskier’s frame—billowing, almost, with his expressive gesturing and his dancing about. It’s only when they’re back at the inn and eating their fill, well after the markets have closed for the day, that Geralt notices a breeze at the back of his armpit every time someone opens the door. He tells Jaskier what bothers him in the privacy of their room.</p>
<p>“Oh, it got torn up in the run? What a shame.”</p>
<p>Geralt picks at the split seams under his arm. It’s ripped open to a hand’s width. The crease where the sleeve snagged is also under heavy scrutiny. </p>
<p>“We can visit the market square tomorrow, if you want,” Jaskier starts with an apologetic wrinkle in his brow. “Get you a new set. Your breeches aren’t doing so well either.”</p>
<p>He means that in sprinting through the stalls, bright yellow dye has soaked into his thighs and the back of one calf. It will take a dedicated washing hand to remove most—but never all—the dye.</p>
<p>“Geralt, I’ve an idea.” Jaskier sits up on his bed, hands outstretched as if picturing a scene. Then, just as quickly, he picks up the items of his new purchase. “How about you wear my new things in the meantime? I wouldn’t want people to call you a vagrant or a shoddy witcher for the fault of a burglar.”</p>
<p>It’s a long stretch of silence as Geralt mulls over the suggestion. But as he watches Jaskier’s easy smile falter, the decision is made for him by the quick, panicked thoughts that shout at that smile's loss.</p>
<p>“Fine, give it here.”</p>
<p>Jaskier perks up at his remark and every nerve in Geralt’s body unravels from its tense hold. </p>
<p>“Of course. Have at it, there’s no shame between us.”</p>
<p>Geralt would argue that <em> Jaskier </em> is the one who is shameless, but as he goes ahead to change there in his presence, the witcher keeps his mouth smartly shut. At least it’s a simple design. Blue trousers with a soft pattern. A white undershirt to go with the deep-colored jerkin. It’s good that it’s sleeveless.</p>
<p>When he’s done tucking things into place, he spots Jaskier stretched back on his hands, giving him a thoughtful onceover, speaking only once Geralt turns to face him. “How is it?”</p>
<p>He takes a deep breath and adjusts the trousers on his waist. The fabric is softer to what he’s used to. It’s meant to hug around the leg, light and airy. He rarely picks simple white shirts for himself, but by virtue of Jaskier’s preference for loose-fitted shirts, it actually suits him nicely. </p>
<p>“It’s not, bad.” Geralt shrugs once and pauses at the strain he feels. “A bit tight around the arms and over the shoulders...”</p>
<p>He’s stretching his arms wide, checking mobility in new clothes out of habit, when it hits him. There in front of him sits Jaskier who preens with a smile so wide his eyes crease at the edges. His legs kick up every few seconds, the <em>black breeches</em> a sharp contrast against the mattress.</p>
<p>“...Jaskier.”</p>
<p>“Yes?” the bard hums in question, blinking up at Geralt’s serious frown.</p>
<p>“Why...didn’t you just give me my clothes back. You—have <em>this</em> now,” his hands hover over his colorful chest and his hips in a general way. “You could have swapped my things off instead and I would be fine.”</p>
<p>“Ah, I must admit, I wanted to see how long it took you to realize. Didn’t think you’d actually get to wear it all.”</p>
<p>He says it all while holding back obvious laughter. </p>
<p>Geralt crosses his arms and—hears a pop in his shoulders.</p>
<p>“No no please, Geralt, don’t you go all stiff and disapproving. You’ll tear the seams open.”</p>
<p>He loosens his grip, obeying without even really thinking about it twice, and Jaskier scrambles up to touch where the sleeve swells high on his arms. To check over his new shirt, of course, but it’s close and confident and—and no one ever just <em> comes up </em> to Geralt without danger bells ringing in his ears.</p>
<p>Danger is the opposite of what Jaskier makes him feel.</p>
<p>There’s a hint of red creeping up Jaskier’s face and it makes Geralt blink rapidly, feeling his own face warm.</p>
<p>“You look nice, you know. Blue suits you.”</p>
<p>He stares at the bard’s dark silhouette, the regal picture he makes with Geralt’s barely more than adequate-for-hunting clothes, and swallows. </p>
<p>It takes some effort, but he says, “You too,” and Jaskier <em> beams </em> at him for it, trilling about how tastefully fitted the black breeches are on himself, and Geralt nods, though all he can think is how long it makes Jaskier’s already endless legs look.</p>
<p>As it turns out, they swap clothes out on the road every now and then since, whether it's a monster that’s bled straight through leather and linen, or a lady that’s lied about a jealous betrothed, and as such requiring a naked escape through the window.</p>
<p>The last one is more Jaskier’s fault but what can Geralt do but sigh and throw him a shirt.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hunt my tumblr down <a href="http://seventfics.tumblr.com">@seventfics,</a> and also look into <a href="http://geraskierfunday.tumblr.com">@geraskierfunday</a> if you're interested in weekly fandom prompts!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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